2 April 2014

Long flights, burgers and jet lag.

Whoever tells you that flying is fun has either never been on a long flight, or they’re lying.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love flying. Short flights are the best fun. Twelve hour flights? Slightly different story.

Sunday morning I finished packing my bags, said goodbye to my fur baby Lexi (oh, my heart!), and jumped into my parents car to the airport. A quick hungry jacks breakfast later, we waited an hour (Sorry my anxiety about being late destroyed your sleep in Dad!) for my first flight. More goodbyes and I was off to Sydney.

With two and half hours between flights, I thought I’d have plenty of time but alas, waiting for the shuttle bus to take me from the domestic to the international terminal took up a fair amount of time, then explaining to the United Airlines staff member how I was actually only staying in the US for a month despite my United ticket having a return date of the 1st of October ("Is Oakland in Canada? Oh, is it on the border?” - sigh) took way longer than it should have. Customs lines are always painful, but I was grateful that they sent me through a line that didn’t have the ‘full body scanner’. I guess in a bright red and white polka dot dress I look more like a friendly cartoon character than someone who would carry dangerous goods.

By the time I got through security I only had twenty minutes before boarding began on my next flight - ack!

A Facebook update later I was back on another plane, this time for 12 hours. Thankfully I had a very friendly ‘flying buddy’ next to me who provided some great conversation, and the staff on United Airlines took great joy from my polka dot obsession making the flight much more amusing.

All in all, the flight was quite a decent one. I watched 3 semi-decent films, stared blankly at 1 terrible one, beat some high scores in Ray-Man, managed to get down one slightly gross plane meal and politely declined two others, and the flight was shorter than expected, arriving in San Francisco half an hour early.

There was however the fact that once the person in front of me put their seat back I basically didn’t have any leg room at all (why must I be tall? WHY?!), and just the general fact that you’re stuck sitting there for 12 hours. Plus, as usual I didn’t sleep at all. I felt like a kid the night before Christmas, far too excited to sleep. Huge bummer. The little tiny plane on the screen fly over the ocean went so very slowly.

Customs in San Francisco operated much quicker than expected and I was soon let through to wait for my baggage. An hour later (no, seriously - a whole hour) I was free!

Free to go straight to ‘In-n-Out’ burger for a cheeseburger, fries and coke. Yum! Tick that off my food bucket list.

Surprisingly, despite having not slept for 24 hours I was wide awake and stayed that way until 10pm. I went to bed thinking I’d somehow managed to skip the whole jet-lag nightmare.

Oh boy, how I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

I woke up at 2pm the next day. That's 7am in Adelaide. Also known as my normal wake up time. Damn you body clock!

Anyone have any jet-lag recovery tips?

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